Dangerous Pets
by SassyJ
Summary: John Reese has some dangerous pets. Detective Lionel Fusco is not the only one. What happens when John acquires two new pets and an old enemy is thrust into the mix? It only takes Maxine Angelis and life becomes incredibly complicated.
1. Packaging Problems

Pairing the phone had been easy, their mark this time was careless and perhaps a little stupid, and it took Reese less than ten seconds to crack the miserable lock on the warehouse side door.

It was curiously quiet as he walked through, and that made him cling to the shadows, something just didn't feel quite right.

The sight that met his eyes when he turned the corner was certainly a puzzle, although Reese was sorely tempted to burst out laughing. The subject of their latest investigation was the abusive boyfriend of a young waitress. It was safe to say that he wouldn't be bothering her or anyone else for quite some time.

Someone had very carefully and very securely zip-tied the abusive idiot to a pipe by his wrists and ankles. He was dangling like a side of beef on a hook, with only his ass resting on the ground. He was pissed as hell, but someone had had the forethought to gag him with duct tape. His muffled squawking increased in volume, and Reese had no intention of releasing him.

He lingered. Sure enough, beep and a message arrived. YOU MIGHT WANT TO CONSIDER LEAVING NOW. UNLESS YOU WANT TO BE PART OF THE CARE PACKAGE. COPS THERE IN FIVE.

No name, no number, and no doubt piggy-backed off some innocent and confused citizen's unprotected wifi or directly from a burn phone which would be promptly dumped. Reese had traced the last one to a trashcan on the edge of Central Park.

That was three days ago.

* * *

He had become aware of her ten days ago. It was a numberless day, and Reese was entertaining himself by watching over Carter. Partly to protect her, partly to inform himself of anything that the CIA might be getting up to.

Carter was CIA free, and, strangely FBI free too. Something that Reese found a little strange, especially as Agent Donnelly seemed to be sweet on Reese's Pet Detective. The guy seemed a decent enough person, although his attempts to trap Reese were something of a nuisance.

The nuisance value of agencies with initials pursuing him to capture and kill or just kill him outright paled into insignificance next to his little stalker.

He lingered on far edge of the crime scene, watching Carter, watching the crowd, and shifting positions without Carter spotting him. It was a game, something to keep his senses sharp, occasionally show Carter that he was making good on his promise, she was never alone and just for something to actually do without thinking.

He could track and plot and plan, and hone his senses and spatial awareness in his sleep.

Until her.

He noticed her first in the way of most men. A pretty girl, a good figure, a place where she didn't really fit, but didn't not fit either.

She was young, mid to late twenties, dressed in a hipster blend of clothing that looked like it was culled from MTV. Baggy khaki cargo pants riding low on her hips, a cropped brown sweater with flecks of gold baring a tanned toned midriff, her long brown hair tucked up under her trilby hat, she moved with grace. A tilt to her head that screamed confidence.

She was too young for him, not his type and he had more than enough on his plate he couldn't possibly be conceivably interested in a child.

Then he saw her again.

Different place, different crime scene.

Well that was unnerving. He changed the parameters of his Carter surveillance activities. He had no idea what this was. Not a threat, but definitely something.

A day went by. Nothing unusual. An easy number. No sightings, no kneecaps, no half-angry, half-relieved Carter to turn his day inside out.

He loosened up in the late evening with a jog. He was just rounding the park and passing the basketball courts and there she was. Again. Playing basketball. This time it was a pair of black shorts, a dark blue vest top, hatless, long brown hair cascading down her back.

He slowed, not really watching her move, but noting her changes of direction, the shimmy of her hips as she faked and jumped to the rim. One on none. There was something enticing about the way she was playing. Clearly she craved an audience. He was not that audience. But it puzzled him all the same.

He took himself around the long way, and changed hotels. No sense painting a target on his back.

The very next day, their new troublesome number wreaking havoc in the lives of his very unfortunate family turned up gift-wrapped for Detective Carter at the 8th Precinct.

Not the work of the man in the suit. Emphatically not.

Not the whole story either. The whole story involved a note, an apology but the cretin the note was taped too didn't deserve his family, and they didn't deserve him, so they were getting rid of him in a way where everybody won, and he atoned for all the things he had done, somewhere like Sing-Sing seemed good.

Reese removed the note. Addressed to the man in the suit. Went home, dug out the casual clothes Harold had bought him for his suburban mission and went on an extended zig-zag around the city until dawn found him at the coffee shop. They opened early, but not that early, and Reese took himself to the windswept park to wait it out.

Came to the conclusion after half a day that he really wasn't cut out for casual clothes. He liked his suits, he liked his shirts, especially as Finch had introduced Reese to tailored shirts handmade for him. Polo shirts, especially if they were sporting a crocodile embroidered over the left breast, however relaxed, casual and comfortable they were, did not fit. They were not Manhattan shirts. He felt conspicuous. And off-balance. And very confused.

None of which he planned on conveying to Finch.

About the girl, well that was a different matter. Back at the library, new coffee, new sencha green tea for Harold, a small box of cupcakes instead of donuts (mindful of Bear's indiscretion), he was startled to realize that he recalled every detail of her heart-shaped face.

A girl of Indian origin, possibly the Punjab. Finch didn't particularly want to know how John would know that. _An impression_. He shrugged. Long thick brown hair in waves, green almond-shaped eyes. Knowing smile. _Plays basketball_.

_An intriguing detail Mr Reese, but not germane to finding her. Or understanding why you've seen her three times already_.

Dammit.

* * *

He left quietly and discreetly by the way he had entered. If this was 'their' girl, and he couldn't think who else it was likely to be. Suddenly that threw open a lot of possibilities, and the ground beneath their feet was shifting quicksand.

Did someone else have a backdoor into the machine?


	2. Cat Stepping In The Rain

Harold Finch had run diagnostic after diagnostic. He had been sat in his chair for at least three hours past the time that his body started screaming at him to get up, move, lie down. Do something… ANYTHING… but keep sitting in that chair. Harold ignored the pain. His eyes ached. His head ached. But none of that mattered. He had to know how they got their information.

They. He had no idea if there was a 'they'. For all he knew it was that one girl.

Another ROOT… _oh, dear god no_.

A nose had been resting on his knee for at least half an hour, a warm, furry body pressed close. In some dim recess of his consciousness, Harold Finch was grateful for the comfort of Bear. The nose occasionally shifted a little, the dog seemed to be attempting to soothe his master's stress.

"Finch?"

Harold almost jumped. Or would have if his aching body and dulled reflexes would have allowed him to. He was in a very bad way indeed.

"Harold." John was attempting to gain his attention.

Finally a pair of big strong hands came down, grasped Harold's chair and swung him away from the desk. The same hands grasped his shoulders gently. "Harold." The low raspy voice was gentle and patient, Harold Finch stared into the intense blue-gray eyes that were staring into his.

"um." He said. Not exactly articulate, but that seemed to sum up his general feeling of baseless panic.

"Harold, we have a problem, but I don't think it's actually a threat." Reese watched the sheer, naked terror in his partner's restless blue eyes actually bank down a bit. "This girl isn't Root." Using pitch and tone to calm Finch was hardly a trick, especially as he realized that rationalizing this unexpected development was helping to calm him too.

Just the thought of Root and what she had done to Harold made John sick to his stomach. He flicked back to those first few nights after he had brought Finch back to New York, where he struggled to keep himself on an even keel just for Harold's sake. That didn't stop the terror of the nightmares. The backwash of relief and pent up tension had hit him hard when he was alone. John Reese had done something then that he hadn't done in many, many years.

He wept.

Alone in his bed, John had buried his face in his pillow and given in to it all. Fear, pain, loss, the misery of his existence until Harold came along.

Although he wasn't exactly alone. Finch had spent the first few nights holed up in the suite with John. Their need not to stray far from the other's side was unexpressed but deeply felt all the same.

Sleep was a bust, but Finch lying on his back still in the bed staring at the ceiling had heard his partner's distress. Knowing that he could no more go to comfort John than fly to the moon, and that the big man would not really want him to, there was something curiously life-affirming and cathartic about hearing him cry.

The base of their relationship had shifted and re-formed again. Reese seemed warmer and more open, more comfortable. Finch had come to rely on his partner more and more.

"What makes you think she isn't a threat?" He managed to articulate, while trying to actually process the information.

"Because somehow I doubt Root would ever have considered playing a lone game of basketball to gain my attention, just for the fun of it. She wasn't trying to threaten me, she was trying to be cute."

"Cute?" Finch's tone was hard to read.

"Yeah." Muttered John a little sheepishly. Reading her was quite difficult, but the basketball was definitely some kind of _notice me_. It was what she wanted that was bothering him.

Figure that out, and quick, before Finch had a complete meltdown.

Two more days and nights went by. No contact and Reese was just starting to relax again. A couple of tough numbers had come his way, and he had no time to think about how he might have to deal with his strange admirer.

At least, he hoped it was some kind of admiration. Far too many people were happily trying to kill him as it was.

* * *

He had just wrapped the last number up, decided to go for a run before making himself something to eat and catching up on his sleep.

It was raining. Not something that ever bothered Reese, a little rain would be refreshing. It was coming down in earnest when he neared the basketball courts. She was there again. He slowed, she jumped, the ball dunked neatly, and in spite of himself he turned to watch. She made a few more moves, jumped to the rim again, this time the ball bounced and missed. He chuckled. She looked up.

Caught out, he was about to move off again.

"Hey… are you like… checking me out?"

Intrigued he changed his mind, and moved towards her. "And if I am?" _Two can play at this game_. "A little one on one?"

She smiled and held out the ball. He stepped forward and took it from her.

His running shoes weren't quite right for this, and the court was very wet, and they were evenly matched which came as something of a surprise. He had height and experience, she had guile and speed. The rain ran unhindered down their bodies, the water splashing beneath their feet, the long wet tendrils of her hair plastered to her. The challenge in her green eyes spurring him on.

He managed to get a point ahead, but she would haul it back. How long they played he wasn't sure. They were both soaked through, finally he pulled ahead, one point, then two.

She stopped then. "Are you sure now?"

He didn't even need to ask. He just nodded.

"You know, we could have saved all this if you had just asked Zoe Morgan." She winked, and walked away, lobbing the ball high in the air. He could only watch as it plummeted through the ring.

It figured. Of course the main problem with asking Zoe is that he had to be speaking to her. Since they had parted so warily after the Far Rockaway incident, John had been avoiding Zoe.

Since she had apparently found someone else to service her interests, clearly Zoe still felt awkward herself.

He made his way slowly back to the library. It was late, he was wet through, but he was sure that Finch would want to know the development.


	3. Sunehri

She was well aware that his eyes were on her as she walked away. It amused her. Sunehri knew that he would ask Zoe her name and it pleased her to manipulate the situation a little.

Doing favors for Zoe Morgan supplemented her income nicely, but it was that night that really piqued her interest. Sunehri had been there when his call came in. She had seen and taken notice of the visceral reaction the sound of his voice had provoked. Zoe Morgan, interested in a man, well that was a first. Not that Zoe wouldn't be interested in a man, but the eagerness with which she set out to meet this one. Changing her dress for one thing, now that wasn't Zoe at all.

So Sunehri had followed her, and caught her first glimpse of the man she had heard Zoe call John.

He was handsome, tall, silver in his black hair, cool watchful blue-gray eyes…

_Just how damn close did you get?_

"Pretty close."

Sunehri grinned. Lee had not been pleased. She had pointed out that any number of things could go wrong, and that if he was a player in Zoe's world that could spell disaster for the good they were trying to do.

Zoe Morgan dealt in information and favors. If Sunehri could do some work for Zoe there would be a trade off in cash, and sometimes, kind.

All so Sunehri could keep being the lab assistant to the woman who had first given her a job. Who had trusted her to give her a job that a girl with a juvenile record and no apparently discernible tradable skills would normally have a shot at.

Dr Lee Cooper.

Sunehri had endeared herself to the good doctor on the day of the interview by not offering up a smirk or a quip. In truth, she hadn't even made a connection, she really wasn't that familiar with the brand name. Her two pairs of jeans were Versace.

She got the job, and it didn't take her long to discover that what Lee did ran a whole lot deeper than giving a face and a name to the victims of atrocity. Which was how Sunehri had run into Zoe.

And, Sunehri's smile darkened, Maxine Angelis. She was someone who they both could do without. The nosy reporter was chasing another story, and this one stood every chance of blowing their cover and wrecking what they could do for people in need.

Maxine Angelis wanted access to the files. Sunehri knew that would never happen.

* * *

"We have a number, Mr Reese."

"We do?" Reese paused, he hadn't expected Harold to calm down that quickly. When he had last left them, Bear was attempting to interest a deeply distracted Finch in a game of ball. Now suddenly Finch was back in the game and Bear had a contented look on his face. And a new toy, minus squeak, Reese noted.

"Dr Kayleigh Cooper." Finch moved to the board to pin up a picture of a heavy-set woman in her forties. Reese glanced at the picture, committed the face to memory.

"Forensic Archaeologist, been to all the hotspots in the world, cut her eyeteeth forensically speaking in the Balkan conflicts in the 90s, and has been working ever since." There was the suggestion of a wobble in the genius programmer's voice "She's been working mass graves for over twenty years."

Given what Reese had seen and even done in his career, and the images that sometimes burned through his mind, he felt a respect for the doctor.

"Lee, as she prefers to be called, has tenure at the Museum of Natural History, in the Anthropology Department." Finch turned around. "And she has an assistant. Sunehri Chopra."

Reese stared at the picture. His basketball companion from tonight. "With Zoe Morgan, no less."

"Yes. And that is not the only complication. Dr Cooper is being pursued by a journalist for a story."

"Maxine Angelis." Reese had a sinking feeling.

'Unfortunately, yes." Finch turned, "although Ms Angelis is wasting her breath. Dr Cooper's aversion to journalists is legendary. There are a dozen or more cases where journalists have fallen foul of her temper." Finch moved back to the computer, manipulated the mouse. Reese leaned in to peer at the video, it was obviously a press conference of some kind. Some smug officials sitting behind a long table, microphones. Lee in the middle.

She looked tired, angry, brown hair swept back into a pony tail, dark vest top, mud and dirt streaked on her face, her arms. Clearly close to exhaustion, but she kept herself upright. Staring them down. The barrage of flashes would have daunted anyone, but she kept staring right at them. Somebody asked a question. Reese didn't even hear it, he was watching her reaction to it. "Journalists? You're jackals, picking over the meat of other people's misery so you can titillate a public that doesn't give a damn. Just as long as it's not happening to them. These are lives you're playing with. Not a damn story." She looked at the startled official sitting next to her. "That's it mate. I'm done." She stood up and just walked away.

"Wow." Reese was both slightly stunned and suddenly nervous. This number was going to be a tricky one. Even without the added complications.

'Then there are the activities that she and her assistant have been carrying out that stray into our territory, Mr Reese. And the question of who from her past might want to kill her. I am afraid the list is very lengthy. Although perhaps there is a little light at the end of the tunnel." In spite of the situation, Finch's lips threatened to quirk into a smile. "Miss Chopra seems to like you."

Reese met Finch's wide, apparently innocent gaze with a gulp and a shuffle. He wasn't a fool, he knew the opposite sex found him attractive, his time in the CIA had taught him a lot of tricks and methods of exploitation. Manipulating Sunehri wouldn't be that difficult, but somehow he didn't want to do that. It had dawned on him that their impromptu basketball match in the rain was the first time in over a decade where there was no side, no enemy to look for over his shoulder, she was just teasing him, she wanted him to notice her and he rose to the challenge.

That brought back some recent memories of Zoe in a house in the suburbs asking what people did for fun around there. _Fun_. That was it in a nutshell. Reese hadn't had real fun in a very long time. Until a sparky young woman invited him to play basketball in the rain.

Finch watched the dumbfounded expression pass over his partner's face and turned back to his computer. He'd recorded and saved the footage from the game. At first it was pure concern. An alarming number of people were trying to kill John at any given time. Then he watched from the pure pleasure of seeing John happy, and relaxed, having fun. Something that his serious partner didn't get enough of.

Finch had his pleasures. But John had been denied so many pleasures for so much of his adult life, if this bizarre relationship gave him some real downtime from the stresses of his life and existence, Harold Finch was all for it. With a little sneaky manipulation he had managed to zoom the camera sufficiently to see their expressions, the goofy grin on Reese's face made him look absurdly young, his silvering hair darkened by the rain added to the overall impression. They were both laughing, teasing each other with the ball, Reese using his height and reach to maneuver the ball just out of her reach, Sunehri using her speed and guile to conceal the ball, get round him and shoot for the hoop.

Finch sighed quietly and turned back to their problem, the best way to get close to Dr Lee Cooper.

An event for donors and other dignitaries caught his eye. Still possible to get a donation in and get a couple of invitations for Harold Crane and his Asset Manager, John Rooney.

_Damn_. Harold scowled, that was close. If Maxine Angelis was there, and he could see no way that she wouldn't be, John had to be Anderson, not Rooney. A mistake like that could spell John's doom. They had got away with it last time because Maxine was distracted, a hefty dose of luck and Zoe Morgan's attraction to John.

Harold was aware that Zoe and John had parted on slightly shaky terms last time round. But needs must. And the chances were that Zoe would be there anyway. She worked those kinds of events as a matter of course.

Finch felt a wave of inexpressible fear sweep over him. There was no way he was going to let John walk into this alone.


	4. Social Niceties

It was another one of those society parties. Polished and pretty, utterly shallow and soulless. The kinds of parties that Harold Finch avoided like the plague even when he was 'alive'. Now Harold Crane and his Asset Manager, Mr John Anderson were working the party together. Pressing the flesh. Looking confident and intelligent and wearing the right clothes.

Harold thanked his foresight and planning that said that John would need the kind of gala dress suits that an Asset Manager for a shadowy multi-billionaire would wear. He had recorded all John's measurements, to John's ill-concealed, eye-rolling irritation and his tailor had run a few things up.

The only downside that Harold could see was that, in this crowded room, John was drawing many admiring glances. Perhaps too many.

The overly effusive director, Dr Ellis Woods, _just a little too emphatic inflection on the title_, was making the introductions to various department heads and those members of staff who ranked such attention as he saw it.

Harold was already feeling tired, and he swore to himself that the next predatory female that fixed his Asset Manager with that smile, held his hand for just a little too long, and stroked John's palm as they let go was going to suffer the consequences. That swimmy look that the predators had in their eyes was slowing this down to a sloth-like pace and they had yet to even catch a glimpse of Dr Cooper.

"John."

Just as Harold thought it could not get worse, Maxine Angelis was pushing through the crowd, surging forward.

"Cheri." There was a flash of scarlet off to their left, and Sunehri was suddenly in John's arms, which closed around her. Hers wound around his neck.

Then she turned in John's arms in such a way that her body remained pressed close against him and his left arm settled naturally over her hip.

"Sunehri Chopra, Anthropology." Sunehri held out a hand. "And you are?"

Sunehri's possessive little move had not gone unnoticed, as Harold became uncomfortably aware that several of the predatory females were now glaring at the spectacle. But on the plus side, the feisty move had definitely put Maxine on the back foot.

"Maxine Angelis." The reporter's expression indicated that she knew that Sunehri knew exactly who she was, but that the younger woman's move had left her in the unenviable position of looking foolish if she attempted to point that out.

And Maxine was just possibly still a little sensitive about appearing a fool or a charlatan in public.

_Good_. Anything that kept her from asking questions that Harold and John would be utterly unable to answer would be a good thing.

When Sunehri had almost crashed into him, John's arms had gone around her by instinct, her hug had surprised him too, but by the time she turned in his arms to face Maxine he was caught up and on the same play page.

Presenting a united front. One which clearly foxed Maxine.

John and Sunehri certainly made a handsome couple. Her dress a scarlet silk cheong-sam, the traditional Chinese dress flowed over her tiny figure. Tight in all the right places, elegant, the color doing much for Miss Chopra's milk and honey skin tone. Her head reached half way up John's shoulder her upswept hair giving her another inch or two of height, his arm curved around her, hand resting on her hip. Sunehri's fingers rested briefly on the back of his wrist. Fleetingly, but long enough to secure the impression.

The looks they gave one another suggested complete concord. While Harold Finch would have been delighted to find that Sunehri Chopra was an excellent actress just helping them out of a bind, he knew enough of her tactics and John's to see a little more into it than that.

Pondering this new development, Harold almost missed the conclusion of this new stratagem. Dr Woods was looking annoyed. Maxine Angelis was in full retreat, clearly off to re-think her next move.

She couldn't pounce on John unless she wanted to wreck her chances of a route to Kayleigh Cooper.

_Would that be game, set and match?_

Harold's lips twitched upwards a little at the thought. He never liked to be vindictive unless there was no other option, but Maxine Angelis had been something of a loose cannon, and John had been beaten up saving her. Harold really hated that he had to ask John not to betray himself until help could arrive. The sound of fists pounding into John's flesh made him feel queasy. Later, after John had finally said goodbye to Maxine, he had been changing his shirt at the Library, and Harold had inadvertently seen the bruises.

He winced at the thought. Then shook himself mentally. John was strong and fit and very well able to take care of himself. Caring about John's welfare was an unexpected side effect of their relationship, and one that Finch was finding an increasing concern.

"Now that is an interesting spectacle." Zoe Morgan's tone might have contained a hint of snap, but Finch was grateful for the interruption. He turned to greet her.

"Good evening, Ms Morgan." Zoe's half-smile was a little distracted. A quick glance behind him told him that Reese had decided to play Sunehri's little ploy to the hilt for whatever reason. His large hand wrapped securely around Sunehri's slender one, their body language intimate but not overt, but there was something else there and Finch pondered that complexity for a moment.

As he turned back to Zoe, he caught the look on her face before it was hurriedly masked. Feeling extremely uncomfortable, he indicated that they might like to rejoin Reese and Dr Cooper's Assistant. _Before anything else happens_.

* * *

When Sunehri first flung herself at him Reese was startled. Not that he hadn't worked out that she found him attractive, but that he felt an emotional connection to her. Maybe for the first time since Jessica.

He was attracted to Carter for her incorruptibility and her honesty, Zoe was a scrapper, like him, forged in a hard place, but Sunehri? Well that was a whole new ball game and he wasn't sure he had the right to even try.

Her boss was the number, only her boss wasn't at this party which kind of made a nonsense out of their attendance.

"Lee never does these things." Sunehri gave him a strange look when he casually asked. "She hired me for my ability to talk to people, so that she doesn't have to." Sunehri cast a glance over her shoulder at the slightly sour-faced Dr Woods "they don't like it, but Lee has an international reputation and her work brings all sorts of credit."

"Can I meet her?" John gave Sunehri his best innocuous smile.

"Sure." Sunehri flashed him a wide happy smile, and for a moment Reese wondered if he had implied more than he meant to convey. He tapped his earpiece.

"Finch, I got this."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." As Reese disengaged he heard Finch asking Zoe if she would care to dine with him. He smiled a little at that, Finch wasn't any more immune to Zoe's charms and personality than he was. That was good to know.

Sunehri tugged on his wrist and he followed her, never seeing the calculating brown eyes that followed them across the room.


End file.
